So Deal With It
by PenPistola
Summary: Arthur gets walked in on while he's having sex and DOESN'T go all pillow-bitey uke-face.


**Title:** ...So deal with it.  
**Pairing:** Arthur/Eames  
**Word Count:** 737  
**Rating:** M  
**Summary:** Arthur gets walked in on while he's having sex and DOESN'T go all pillow-bitey uke-face.

Arthur was pretty confident he'd locked the door to the warehouse office—which was an extra precaution anyway, considering they were supposed to be alone—but then someone on the other side jogged the handle and the door swung open.

"Anybody here? I just need—oh Jesus _Christ_!"

Arthur glanced down, then at Ariadne, standing absolutely still in the doorway, and considered for a moment what she was seeing. (Arthur, entirely naked, leaned back on his elbows on his desk with his legs splayed open; Eames, still balls deep inside him, hands braced on his thighs, eyes wide and jaw hanging.)

Nobody said anything for approximately thirty seconds. Arthur could feel Eames going soft inside him, so he clenched around Eames' cock, drawing a stuttered, "_Nggh_," from him.

"You needed something?" Arthur asked pleasantly.

Ariadne's eyes were still glued to where their bodies were joined and slick, her mouth a perfect 'O', but eventually she managed a weak, "Yeeeeah. I—I—You. You have my rubber cement. In your desk. You'd borrowed it, and I... models? I need it for... I need it..." The entire time she spoke she made vague waving hand motions, her face going redder and redder.

"Well, alright," Arthur smirked in amusement. "Top drawer."

Ariadne continued to gape. "But you're... you're kind of on—"

"Eames is currently fucking me over the _side_ of the desk. The drawers are in the front, so they're free," he explained, in his opinion not entirely unreasonably. "Well, go on."

He watched the emotions flit across Ariadne's face; disgust, maybe a flicker of arousal, uncertainty, before finally settling on 'purposeful' and 'resigned' at the same time. She took a few, hesitant steps toward the desk. He tracked her closely. When she was twenty feet away, Arthur moved to hook his ankles around Eames' hips, drawing him closer all at once. Eames let out a strangled little whine in protest, but when Arthur did it again he got the hint, resuming his slow, shallow thrusts.

Ariadne had stopped in the middle of the floor again.

"What?" Arthur grinned, like a dare. He didn't try to disguise the way his breath had gone ragged in time with Eames' movements.

"I... nothing," Ariadne gulped. She took a few steps closer.

Eames pushed into him and Arthur let out a positively _sinful_ moan.

Ariadne stopped again, eyes screwed shut and face as red as her jacket. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," she said over and over as she fumbled forward, her arms stretched out in front of her, then thought the better of it and felt out with her feet instead. Arthur dug his heels into Eames' ass and he grunted, picking up the pace of his thrusts. "I'm not kidding," Ariadne spat venomously. "So much."

Eventually her foot made contact with the leg of the desk, and she groped blindly until she happened to make contact with something, in this case Arthur's sweat-slicked bicep.

"Hello," he grinned, and she retracted the hand immediately amidst a litany of "ew, ew, ew" that sent him cackling. She tried again and got empty air, and again, until finally she was running her hand along the desk until she got to the top drawer.

She pulled on the handle and let out a noise of dismay. "It's locked!"

"Just give it a few quick jerks," he advised her. "Unnh, no, not _you_, Eames. Well actually yes, do that again."

"Hate, hate, _hate_." She yanked on the drawer until it opened, fished around until her fingers skimmed over the jar, then snagged it. The desk rattled (even more) with the force she employed to close the drawer. She turned around very, very carefully, and only once she was facing the door did she open her eyes.

"I just want you to know," she said evenly, "that I'm taking back your Christmas presents. _Both of you_."

"Come on, don't—_nrrrgh_—don't be like that!" Arthur called after as she fled the room, but he was laughing.

When Ariadne had closed the door behind her, Eames breathed out an exasperated, "Finally!" and gripped Arthur hard by the hips. He wasn't long in coming, and Arthur followed him nearly immediately after, lying back and jerking himself till he saw stars.

"Shit," he cursed.

"Do you think we broke her?" a still-flushed Eames asked as he tied off the condom and tossed it.

"Dunno," Arthur shrugged and laughed, "but who cares? Sex happens."


End file.
